by T. R. Harris
It was later discovered that she suffered from chronic asthma as well—and even in the enlightened times hundreds of years after the advent of modern medicine, some ailments were still without adequate treatment and cure.
Even though a freak series of events had led to Annabel’s death, Robert placed the blame squarely on the occupying Vixx’r forces. They’d taken his parents from him a decade before and now his only true love.
Robert snapped. He threw all caution and concern to the wind and set out to make a public spectacle of himself, using his money and influence to voice his protests against the Vixx’r. His campaign didn’t last long before the iron fist of the aliens came crashing down upon him.
Arrested and sentenced to five years in a Vixx’r prison, it was only through efforts of KST and the Ionian government that his term was reduced to only four months. Yet as a condition of his early release he was forbidden from making any public denunciations of the Vixx’r for any reason. With his very next violation he would be sent back to serve out his sentence, with an additional three years tacked on for good measure.
That had been a year before, and it was shortly after his release that Robert Kincaid had been approached by representatives of the United Peoples of Earth. The president of the UPE herself had a special assignment for him—if he was willing to accept it. He was told that spies still operated within occupied territory, and there were even a few assets left after Earth’s abandonment of the Reaches. So Robert was offered a broken-down menagerie of salvage-quality warships and a skeleton crew and asked to create an effective resistance movement out of the scraps. His task seemed impossible, yet he jumped at the opportunity to once again kill aliens from the command chair of an interstellar warship.
It hadn’t been easy, especially when he had to build his force while still leading a normal life on Ione. And to make matters worse, he was still under the watchful eye of the Vixxies, who were concerned that one of the richest men in Anchorage would once again resume his protest campaign against them.
That all began last winter, and now as the harsh weather returned—as well as the ration days—Robert was already on edge. Gaolic and his snide condescension had been the last straw; that and Robert’s documented uncontrollable temper.
*****
THE other two Vixx’r with Gaolic in Smitty’s office had worked him over really well after he’d jumped on their leader choke him. Of course, in Robert’s mind’s eye, the fight lasted much longer than it did in reality. He’d managed only to get a good grip on the neck of the elderly alien before the other two had beat him senseless.
Now surveying his current physical condition, it was obvious no medical care had been offered. He was still covered in his own blood, and with several open cuts on his face from the huge rings the aliens wore.
Now he was in some deep shit! He had attacked the supreme alien official in the Reaches, and one of the top-ranking Vixx’r in all the Confederation. He was also under pressure to sell off his interest in Kincaid Shipping and Transport. And now his fledging pirate fleet was without a commander.
In spite of the summary he’d just itemized in his mind, it was actually much worse than that.
He would surely spend most of his remaining years locked up in one Vixx’r prison or another—that’s if they didn’t enforce some obscure capital punishment law having to do with attacking a high official of the Vixx’r regime. Even if they didn’t have any such law, Robert was sure Gaolic would make one up; their hatred for one another ran that deep.
And as far as Kincaid Shipping and Transport was concerned, he was pretty sure that was over, too. Victor Smith would see to it that the Board would strip him of his seat at the table and even find a way to confiscate his shares rather than have them sold. And even if they were sold off, Robert was sure the Vixx’r would simply take the money as part of the penalty for his attack on Gaolic.
Yet what bothered Robert most was the loss of his pirate fleet and the failure of the mission he’d undertaken. It was the only thing that gave him real purpose, a chance to make a difference. Now, without him at the helm, he was sure the others would simply drift away, returning to their respective planets to live out normal lives, yet still under the oppressive yoke of the Vixx’r.
*****
IT was two weeks before anyone came to visit him, and to his surprise, it was Bondel Drake.
Two days before, Robert had been informed that he would be soon transferred to another facility deep within the original domain of the Vixx’r Confederation. It was further intimated that a process had been started that would eventually lead to his very public execution, as a lesson to all lesser beings who might bring physical harm upon a Vixx’r official. He had wondered if any Humans would be allowed to visit before he left the Reaches—for good this time. And of all the people he wanted to see for the last time, Drake wasn’t even on the list.
Bondel stood on the other side of the metal bars, eyeing them up and down as a Vixx’r guard sat at a table watching him with suspicion.
“So how they treating you in here, Captain?”
“As would be expected. And speaking of expected, you’re the last person I thought I’d see in here.”
“I drew the short straw, what else can I say?”
“How are things on your end?” Robert asked, knowing he couldn’t say much with the Vixx’r listening in. “I suspect there are a lot of disappointed people. Tell them I’m sorry and that I should have thought of the bigger picture before I lost it.”
“That’s too much for a simple mind like mine to remember, so you’re going to have to tell them yourself. Now please, stand back if you don’t want to get burned.”
Robert didn’t know what to do; Drake’s last comment was completely without context. Yet when he suddenly whipped off his belt and strung it across the locking mechanism of the cell door, Robert knew something bad was about to happen.
The Vixx’r guard noticed Drake’s actions as well. He rose from his seat and began to withdraw the plasma weapon from the holster he wore around his waist—a dark, permanent stain on the leather strap from the constant mucus soakings it had been subjected to.
In his defense, Bondel reached under his vest and pulled out an eight-foot long whip he had hidden there. Part of it had been wrapped around his neck to resemble a loose necklace, while its deadly cracker tip extended to the base of his back. He had been able to get the bullwhip past the Vixx’r guards after convincing them that it was part of his attire. The naive aliens never knew the difference.
In a fluid and practiced motion, Bondel sent the cracker into the side of the guard’s face, opening a six-inch long gash and stunning the alien. This gave Drake the opportunity to reach in and pull the pistol from the guard’s grasp. A well-placed strike to the guard’s head from the heavy metal grip of the weapon sent the alien to the floor for a prolonged nap.
Returning to the cell, Drake took one of the ends of the thermite-infused belt and exposed a small magnesium fuse. A tiny lighter was all it took to ignite the metal and then the belt. The room suddenly filled with a blinding flare and a sweet-smelling smoke, as the white-hot strap now easily melted through the locking mechanism on the cell.
Fanning away the smoke, Robert kicked open the door and ran past the last remaining traces of the burning belt that lay on the floor. “Now what?” he asked Bondel.
“Good question. As far as I can tell no one’s ever escaped from a Vixx’r jail before; not that’s it impossible, just no one has ever tried.”
“That’s reassuring—I think.”
Bondel looked at the light tan jumpsuit Robert wore—the standard issue for prisoners. “I was hoping we could just stroll out of here like nothing happened, but that suit will have to go, and the damn Vixx’r aren’t any help when it comes to uniforms and such. Here.”
He took off his vest and handed it to Robert. He still wore an off-white long-sleeve shirt underneath. The dark brown vest actually went well with the prison-issue outfit
, yet it still wouldn’t be enough to fool the guards.
“I’m not giving you my pants,” Bondel stated firmly. “I don’t have a spare, and besides, I’m not wearing anything underneath.”
“Good; you can keep them,” Robert said with smile. “So is it just you, or do you have back-up?”
“There’s back-up, but they’re outside the walls. For the time being, it’s just you and me, bud.”
It was fortunate that very little crime was committed against the Vixx’r in the Reaches, and that crime amongst the aliens themselves was very rare. So the prison was relatively small, consisting of only two ten-unit cellblocks, a mess hall, a kitchen, toilet facilities and a processing center. The guards worked in shifts and lived off the property.
“I only encountered four guards on the way in, not counting sleeping beauty over there. I supposed we could just blast our way out using the plasma launcher and my bullwhip, but that would probably only attract more guards.”
“The kitchen!” Robert said. “We can get out through there. Most of the workers there are Human, and if nothing else I might be able to find some new clothes.”
“Where is it?”
“Halfway down the cellblock and to the left. It’s between the two wings.”
Drake handed Robert the plasma launcher. “Lead on, my Captain. I’ll be right on your tail and with my trusty lash.”
“Rather primitive weapon, isn’t it?”
“It’s all a humble mule-driver can afford these days.”
There were only four other prisoners in the block and they had all moved to the bars of their cells when they heard the disturbance down the corridor. Now as the pair raced by a few called out for help. They were all Humans, and Robert knew they’d be willing recruits if he could set them free. But he didn’t have the time to complicate their impromptu escape plan. It would be a miracle if the two of them got out, let alone after freeing a half dozen others.
“Seriously, Drake, what was your plan when you came in here?” Robert asked as they entered the short concourse that led to the dining hall.
“To tell the truth I just came in to check things out. I had the belt and the whip, but if things looked dicey you’d still be back in the cell.”
“You know they have security cameras everywhere. I’m surprised—”
Suddenly a wailing alarm erupted from hidden wall speakers. “There it is,” Robert said. “That was expected.”
There were three men seated at a table in the mess hall when they arrived—apparently lower security risks simply serving out their time for some minor infractions. There were also two Vixx’r guards near the entrance opposite the kitchen, talking on wrist monitors. Their eyes grew wide when Robert and Bondel entered. These guards were unarmed, yet still they rushed toward the two Humans with reckless abandon, baring their inch-long teeth in a fierce display of animal dominance.
Robert had never killed a Vixx’r face-to-face before; all his confirms were either at the controls of an F-82 fighter or from the command chair of a starship. Nevertheless, he raised his weapon—
Yet just as the two guards passed the table where the Humans were seated, the men jumped, tackling the guards in a totally unexpected move. Four seconds later, the aliens were unconscious and the men were running toward Robert and Drake.
“You need some company?” said a hulk of a man as he and the others fell into stride, heading for the kitchen.
“Always—and thanks.”
“You’re Kincaid, aren’t you?” the man asked. “Everyone says you’re Captain Malicious. Is that true?”
“’Fraid so.”
“I’m Roland, and this here is Isaac and Ewan. Really admire what you’re doing. Can you use a couple of extra hands?”
“You sure you want to do this?”
“Not much choice now. Sludgers don’t take too kindly to others beating on them, so we’re screwed already.”
The five men rushed through the double swinging metal doors leading into the kitchen. There were more six Humans in the room, all wearing the ubiquitous soiled white uniforms of kitchen help. They looked confused as the alarm continued to blare.
Robert’s group came to a sudden stop when they saw four of the men standing between them and the rear exit. A tense moment passed as the two groups faced off. Then one of the kitchen staff quickly removed his dirty apron and let it fall to the floor. “Screw it, I’m going with Kincaid,” was all he said. Soon Robert was leading a veritable herd of stampeding Humans toward the door to the kitchen’s loading dock.
Robert and Drake shared a look; they didn’t have to say a word, yet each knew what the other was thinking.
Damn, nine new recruits in two minutes. That’s if we can all get out alive….
Outside the building the alarm wasn’t as loud, yet there were more Vixx’r rushing to close off the exits—and the Humans only had one plasma weapon between them.
Kincaid felt the heat of the blast before he heard it, as a large section of the prison wall directly in front of them imploded. They had to cover their faces against the flying debris, while knowing instinctively this was the way out.
“Your back-up?” Robert yelled over the rumble of the collapsing wall.
“I hope so, and they’re carrying more firepower than I was led to believe.”
Robert smiled. If Javon Steele was part of the rescue team then that wasn’t a surprise. The man was an absolute nut over anything that went boom!
All the men made it through the breach in the wall without incident, yet as they spotted the standard-size electric vehicle next to Javon—the shoulder-fired missile launcher he held still smoking at the ends—they could clearly see the look of shock on the man’s dark face.
Steele had come expecting one extra passenger, yet here were nine more.
Steele dropped the launcher and jumped into the driver’s seat just as Robert and Bondel climbed in the back, soon to be joined by three other big, sweaty men crowding on top of them. Sean Sinclair was with Javon, sitting in the front passenger seat. Soon he was also playing host to one of the fleeing kitchen staff, now sitting on his lap.
The other five men climbed on back bumpers or spread themselves over the thin metal top of the car, holding onto anything their fingers could grasp. It only took five seconds before they were all secure enough for Steele to put the car in gear and make their escape—sort of.
The car’s tiny electric motor had never been designed for that much weight and the little vehicle began to move away from the prison wall at a blistering ten miles per hour. Fortunately, the prison was located at the top of a small hill, and soon the road dropped off at a slight pitch, allowing the overloaded transport to pick up speed. By the time it reached the base of the hill, the speedometer read an impressive thirty-five miles per hour.
But then there was the stoplight to contend with—and it was red!
Javon applied the brakes, yet just as it was with the tiny motor, they, too, weren’t up to the task. Smoke billowed from under the car, and in spite of the squealing of tires as other vehicles fought to avoid hitting them, the Human-covered car did impact the broad side of a stalled delivery truck in the middle of the intersection…and at a metal-crunching two miles per hour.
“The Rusty Duck,” Robert yelled out. “You know where it is?”
All the extra passengers either jumped off or out of the overloaded car. “Yeah, I know the place,” one of them replied.
“If you still want to be part of this, meet me there tonight at ten, and be prepared to leave the planet.”
Robert’s potential new recruits now ran off in a myriad of directions, fading into the growing crowd of onlookers.
With the getaway car now relieved of its overburden, Steele was able to pull it away from the minor fender-bender and navigate the snarled traffic. There were police vehicles screaming towards them, yet they, too, had to make it through the roadblock at the intersection—which conveniently became impossible to pass thanks to a dozen more Hum
an-driven vehicles joining the chaos for no apparent reason other than to add to the barricade.
Steele’s tiny electric vehicle whined down the road beyond the intersection and disappeared around the next corner, with no pursuit able to follow.
6
ROBERT Kincaid was in a rotten mood.
Even though he was now aboard Drake’s marauder—the Kai Shek—and heading for his secret pirate base, he still felt like a man adrift. UPE President Victoria Simms and her few trusted associates had discussed this eventuality with him at length—of the time when he would be exposed as the leader of the renegade pirates. However, it was much simpler to plan in the abstract than to deal with the reality, as he was finding out.
He had lost everything, his family home, his wealth, his business and even the ties he had with countless friends and associates. At the time the contingency plans were being discussed, Robert felt the loss of such things would be an acceptable tradeoff when considering the importance of the mission. Yet reality was turning out to be a much harsher mistress and all the things he thought he could give up for a greater good were foremost on his mind.
Fortunately for Robert, he had contacted Paul Schuler prior to their departure from Ione and asked if he would join him, not as a fighter, but as his trusted advisor.
Robert was only mildly surprised when the seventy-four-year-old jumped at the chance. Paul was being invited to join a pirate crew in a desperate struggle against the forces of evil—how could he say no? This was to be the last great adventure for the frontier legend, and he kept reminding Robert how upset he would have been if he’d been left behind.